WHERE TO BEGIN?

Where to start?

So that's the question I have been asking, where do I begin with this blog? My last blog was last August and so much has changed since then. To be honest, I thought my blogging days were over. A friend asked me a couple of weeks ago why I stopped and I gave a really honest answer "it served its purpose, it was my therapy for a while, and I am ok. So it no longer serves a purpose." However, a call from a friend a couple of hours ago served as a reminder that self healing was not the only reason I started this blog; I started the blog to help people who are exactly where I was on July 29, 2013. Today I found myself on the phone with a college friend who, unfortunately, is exactly where I was on July 29, 2013.

I recognized the fear in her voice, I recognized the confusion, the shock - and just like that I was transported to that very dark day for me. It made me remember that I can be the light for someone else, the hope that there are brighter days ahead, a glimpse of a future without cancer.

Sadly, she is not the first person to reach out to me after being diagnosed. I have had two other dear friends diagnosed with cancer in the last 8 months - one with pancreatic cancer and one with breast cancer. So I find myself welcoming new members to the club that no one really wants to join. I sort of have become the spokesperson for this club. A club that has really dark days. A club whose initiation is painful and scary. A club where you are forever marked by scars. A club where you smile a sympathetic smile when you notice a stranger's port scar and know that you are connected with that person on a level that others may never understand.  We are forever united, forever joined by this disease. A disease that doesn't care how old you are, how little your children are, how much life you have to live - it takes its victims and offers no apologies.

What does remission feel like?

Remission feels GREAT. There was a time in my life when I could not think of anything else but cancer, it consumed me. There was a time when I thought about it every day, I feared that it was still inside of me. Now, I can go days and weeks without thinking of it. Last year at this time, I would worry about any upcoming appointment for a week ahead of time - I wouldn't sleep, I wouldn't eat, I would just worry. Now, my appointments arrive without me even thinking about them. My "nerves" don't really kick in until I am sitting on the examination table.

I breathe easy, cancer doesn't take away my joy anymore. It was a long battle, but I won. I find myself laughing again. A true laugh. A laugh from deep within.

That's not to say that I get to never think about cancer again. There are reminders. I still see my oncologist every three months. My last appointment was in February and everything looked great. He is very satisfied that I am handling the tamoxifen so well - I really have no side effects.

I see my ob/gyn every six months for an ultrasound and blood work. Being BRCA positive, I have to be monitored. As the geneticist put it "my ovaries are a ticking time bomb"; so its just a benefit/risk assessment as to when I go ahead with the hysterectomy. I am still fighting it...hard. My ob/gyn, when I saw him two weeks, decided that it would be best for me to see a gynecological oncologist for his opinion, so I add a new doctor to my list. I see this doctor on Wednesday and I am really praying that he tells me that I can wait at least 5 more years for that surgery. Yes, removing the ovaries would remove the risk of getting ovarian cancer - but it comes at other costs - permanent menopause, osteoporosis, increased risk of stroke, and an overall decline in the quality of life. SO I am going to put it off as long as possible. Angelina Jolie does make the "precautionary hysterectomy" look sexy (http://www.nbclosangeles.com/news/local/Jolie-Discloses-Ovarian-Fallopian-Removal-Surgery-Times-Op-Ed-Cancer-297341011.html), but I am not sure there is anything that her and Brad couldn't make look sexy. So I am going to opt out as long as possible, unless they tell me I will come out of surgery looking like Angelina, then I may opt for it.

My reconstruction is COMPLETE. So here is that extremely humiliating topic again...nipples. In October my plastic surgeon "built" my nipples and in December I got the tattoos to finish the process. In case you were wondering from my last post - there is no Skymall for nipples. (Too bad, there really should be.) How often do you think about nipples? For guys this is probably more than women. But you probably have never stopped to think about circumference, color, position. The weeks leading up to my surgery and tattoos, I felt like a sixteen year old boy on the internet searching for nipples. I texted my friends asking about their nipples, they all thought I was nuts. Quite frankly, I had totally forgotten what my real ones looked like. There are ALOT of different sizes and shapes out there and I am not sure what is "normal." So when I got to the medical spa for my tattoos, she actually showed me what an "average" size areola is, its the size of a washer in case you were wondering. So the tattooing process took about an hour. It was in a very professional environment. I am pretty sure I will not be getting any tattoos for fun. It just wasn't my thing.
This is such an uncomfortable topic, but its a reality for women after a mastectomy. But that is about all I can say about this for now. Just typing about it makes me clammy.

In my last post, I talked about how my oncologist wanted me to get a colonoscopy before he saw me again. Cancer can be so unsexy. So I got my colonoscopy in September. Everything in life is relative. I would not choose to have colonoscopies on a regular basis, but it isn't nearly as bad as people say. After 5 surgeries in a year, a colonoscopy was relatively easy. And lets just talk about propofol for a second, the medicine they use to knock you out for the colonoscopy. Its wonderful. I totally see why Michael Jackson had such an affinity for it. I loved it! If ever I developed a drug problem, that would be my drug of choice. (Mom, don't worry, I will always say no to drugs).

Overall, I am doing well. As my friend Elizabeth reminds me, "I am on the other side of cancer now." And she is right. But a simple phone call from a newly diagnosed friend can bring back the memories of the darkness in an instant. You don't have to scratch the surface too hard for the raw memories to bubble up. My advice for my friend that was diagnosed this morning - there will be sunshine again, there will be laughter again, there will be healing, you will get to see your baby grow up. In the meantime, let others help you, let others love you, pray, and fight like hell.